Lavinia and the Laird (Bluestocking Brides Book 0)

by Samantha Holt

  With an exaggerated sigh, he slipped off his boots and hiked up his kilt. It was hard to miss Lavinia’s eyes widening then her gaze skipping away when she caught sight of his thighs. He eased toward the edge of the bog, feeling for the hard ground underneath the layer of sticky mud.

  “You’ll get stuck too!” Lavinia warned him.

  “Don’t worry, I’m a lot taller than you, lass.”

  His height did indeed prove helpful. By the time he could reach the animal, he was still only up to mid-thigh and could move easily enough in the icy cold mud. “I’ll pull, you push,” he instructed.

  She nodded, flicking a strand of sticky hair from her face. He looped his arms around the animal’s neck while she pushed from the rear. The calf must have exhausted itself as it gave itself up to their attentions and allowed Niall to haul it to the edge of the quagmire. Once it gained its footing, the calf struggled forward and kicked itself onto hard ground. It gave a slight shudder then hurried off the way Niall had come.

  He shook his head. “I guess that’s the thanks we get.”

  “I hope it finds its way back to its mother safely.”

  “I’m sure she will. Cows aren’t as daft as they look.”

  “And yet it still managed to fling itself in here.” She lifted her arms and motioned to the puddle.

  “And you got in voluntarily. What does that say about you?”

  She offered him her mud-caked hands with a narrowed gaze. “I thought you had offered to get me out. It’s freezing in here.”

  Niall eased back a little to get a better footing then took her hands. He hauled her toward him until he could get a grip on her waist and lift her bodily from the mud. She gasped and clung to his neck. He stumbled back a few more steps. Were it not for the mud clinging to his legs and clothes and the heavy weight of her garments, he’d happily keep her in his grasp for a while longer. The feel of her waist beneath his palms would haunt him for many an evening, he reckoned.

  Placing her on her feet, he sucked in a breath while she arranged her sodden skirts and brushed her filthy palms down her bodice. He followed suit, using the clean bits of his plaid to remove the worst of the dirt before slipping into his boots.

  He eyed the pallor of her cheeks, usually so rosy and fresh. “You look chilled, had you been in there long?”

  “A lot longer than I’d anticipated,” she said with a laugh.

  He took her hand, not thinking about the action until her fingers curled into his. “Come with me, I left my jacket back there.” He indicated to the edge of the woods with his other hand.

  Once he’d retrieved his jacket and they were safely out of the woods, he slung it over her shoulders. She gripped it to her and smiled.

  “Thank you, Niall,” she said softly.

  Christ, he could hear her say his name like that all day every day. “Any time you need rescuing from mud, just let me know.”

  “I do not intend to repeat that if I can help it.” She glanced around at the empty field. “Did you by any chance see my sisters?”

  He grinned. “Aye, and they weren’t exactly acting normal.”

  Lavinia grimaced. “I hope they did not do anything too silly.”

  “Not too silly.” He closed the gap between them. “I cannot pretend I’m not grateful to have time alone with you.”

  Her lips curved. “Even if you did end up in the mud?”

  “Even if I did end up in mud.” He stroked a thumb down her cheek and saw a ripple run through her body. He could blame the cold but there was no chance she was not feeling the same thing he was. Every part of his body was on fire, desperate with need. Each breath in felt labored, as though he would not breathe normally until he had her back in his arms.

  “I’d jump in the mud for you every day, lass, so long as I got to hold you afterward.”

  “Oh.” She swayed into him.

  Niall took the opportunity to ease his hands around her waist and draw her close. Her fingers laced around his neck and despite the mud slowly drying on his skin, he’d never felt so right. This woman belonged in his arms.

  She should belong to him.

  He caught her gaze, watched the darkening of her pupils. The discomfort, the cold, the breeze around them, the vast expanse of the field vanished. Nothing existed apart from her—his sweet, courageous Lavinia.

  He touched his lips to hers, tenderly at first. She sucked in an audible breath. His gut clenched and he repeated the movement. His mouth tingled and he gripped her tighter to him.

  Slanting his mouth across hers, he kissed her more firmly. A tiny noise escaped her—a noise he swore he’d never forget. Her tongue tentatively met his and he groaned. He explored the warmth of her sweet, sweet mouth.

  “Lavinia?”

  He broke away and whipped his head around to see her sisters followed by Bentley making their way toward his mount. He didn’t think they’d seen Lavinia yet as she was hidden by his body.

  Turning his attention back to Lavinia, he noted the pallor had vanished from her skin. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips before widening the distance between them.

  “How will we explain this?” He motioned to his mud-caked appearance.

  Lavinia lifted her shoulders. “I’m not worried about my sisters. They can keep a secret. I do not know if Mr. Bentley can, however.”

  “I’m sure he will not say anything if I ask him.” He grinned. “After all, I’ve invited him to be a guest at my castle.”

  “Then all I need to worry about is sneaking past Mama and Mrs. H. She will kill me if I traipse mud everywhere.” She waved a hand at her sisters. “Of course Julia always gets away with it. Perhaps she can teach me something.”

  “Perhaps your sisters can teach you something about sneaking out too?”

  Lavinia smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners and making him want to kiss her all over again.

  “Perhaps.”

  Chapter Nine

  Catherine threw herself on Lavinia’s bed and rested her chin on both hands. Lavinia eyed her in the mirror before turning her attention back to her hair. Amelia took a pin from the vanity table and pushed it in where Lavinia held a curl back.

  “So did he dive straight into the mud?” asked Catherine.

  Julia lifted her nose from the book she was sketching in and frowned. “Why does it matter?”

  Lavinia watched the exchange in the reflection, half-hoping they would leave her out of the discussion. Not that she was trying to hide anything. She had given her sisters a brief description of what had happened but it was hard to process all that had happened, let alone describe it to her sisters.

  Catherine pressed back from the bed. “Well, it tells us if he will protect our sister.”

  “It tells us if he is romantic,” said Emma with a sigh.

  “I think rescuing her from the mud tells us enough,” Amelia commented, pushing in several more grips then stepping back. “There, all done. Emma, will you do me now?”

  Lavinia stood and she swapped seats with Emma. She was terrible at taming her sisters’ red hair so thankfully never had to do it. Emma started work on Amelia’s unruly hair, huffing when a curl would not stay in place.

  “I wish we had ladies’ maids,” Catherine declared.

  “You would not know what to do with one.” Julia closed her sketch book with a clap.

  Catherine crossed her legs in front of her and shifted so that her back rested against the wall. “I’d never have to fight with your hair again. Only Lavinia’s is easy. If I was rich, I’d happily pay someone just to do that.”

  “Sounds like a waste of money to me,” murmured Amelia.

  “Unless you marry a lord, you’ll never be rich,” pointed out Julia.

  “Well, Lavinia might marry a laird. And I am certain he is rich.” Catherine grinned.

  Emma shook her head. “I don’t think he would want to pay for a lady’s maid for all of us. Besides, from what I heard, a lot of his money is tied up in investments and farming.”<
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  Lavinia eyed her sister. “How do you know that?”

  Emma shrugged. “Since you started showing an interest in him, I have been listening carefully.”

  “So can he look after our sister?” Catherine demanded.

  “Oh I am certain he can, but do not forget Mama was hoping for someone infinitely richer.” Emma shoved several more pins into Amelia’s hair then drew down some curls onto her neck. “Finished!”

  Amelia twisted on the stool to look at Lavinia. “If you truly like him, does it matter what his wealth is?”

  Lavinia shook her head vigorously. And after yesterday, how could she not truly like him? “Of course it does not. But Mama will be disappointed.”

  Julia made a dismissive sound. “Mama is always disappointed. She has four redheaded, freckled daughters. She has been disappointed since the day I popped out.”

  “That’s cruel,” muttered Emma.

  Amelia rolled her eyes. “It’s true. She loves us deeply, we all know that, but it does not stop her from lamenting our looks and bluestocking ways.”

  “It’s her fault for marrying our father.” Catherine flicked a bit of lint from her skirt. “What else did she expect?”

  “I doubt she expected a family of redheads. We are a rarity.” Julia waved a hand. “But that does not matter. What does matter is what happened next?” She looked to Lavinia.

  “Next?” Lavinia echoed.

  “Yes,” said Julia impatiently. “After the mud and before we found you. What happened?”

  Lavinia cheeks warmed at the memory. Goodness, how exquisite his lips had been on hers. How small and perfect and wonderful, she’d felt in his arms, as though she were like a jigsaw piece slotting into the final empty spot.

  “Well, we...” Lavinia swallowed. If she said the words, there would be no going back.

  She straightened. She didn’t want to go back. Niall had seen her at her worst—messy and frustrated. And all he’d wanted to do was kiss her.

  Her sisters eyed her. Not a single one of them drew breath, she was certain.

  “He kissed me,” she whispered.

  Emma let out a squeal. Catherine clapped her hands. Julia nodded approvingly but Lavinia could see the concern in Amelia’s eyes. Perhaps one day, Amelia might find someone who could help her let go of being the older, sensible sister. She certainly hoped so.

  “What sort of kiss was it?” pressed Emma.

  Catherine frowned. “What does that even mean? A kiss is a kiss.”

  Emma shook her head vigorously. “It certainly is not.”

  Folding her arms across her chest, Catherine screwed up her face. “What do you know about kissing?”

  “I know enough.” Emma lifted her chin.

  “From books.” Catherine waved a dismissive hand.

  “It’s still more than you know, Catherine,” Julia pointed out.

  “And more than you should know,” added Amelia. “Let us keep it that way.”

  Catherine made a disgusted noise. “I’m not a child, you know.”

  Julia snorted. “Then stop behaving like one.”

  Catherine rose from the bed, her fists clutched at her side in tiny balls. “Julia—”

  “We are getting distracted.” Emma motioned for Catherine to sit. “We came here to talk about Lavinia kissing the laird.”

  The clatter of something dropping made them all whip their head around to the marginally open doorway. Lavinia’s heart sank to her toes. “Mama?”

  Their mother picked up the tincture bottle she’d dropped, her face ashen. Stiffly, she stepped into the room and cleared her throat. “Girls, I would like a word with Lavinia.”

  Lavinia’s heart pounded in her ears. Had Mama heard? Of course she had. Why else would she look as though she had just been told a family member had died. Swallowing hard, she nodded to her sisters who threw wary looks her way. She had made her choice and she would have to face up to it whether their mother liked it or not.

  But, goodness, was it hard to go back on the habit of a lifetime. She could hardly recall the last time she’d felt sick to the stomach at the idea of disappointing her family. When she was little perhaps and her mother had scolded her for picking blackberries and getting her dress and fingers stained. Pretty girls like Lavinia, she recalled her mother saying, did not let themselves get stained and messy.

  Each of her sisters filed out of the room. Be strong, mouthed Catherine as she left. Mama closed the door behind them, her back straight, her lips compressed. Her mother was not known for a temper and she could usually be counted on to retreat in times of conflict but Lavinia could swear there was real anger in her mother’s posture.

  Clasping her hands in her lap, Lavinia drew in several long breaths. She’d known her mother would not approve, of course, but she had rather hoped she’d have a little more time to figure out how to break the news to her. And certainly not like this.

  “Is it true?” her mother finally asked.

  Lavinia nodded.

  Mama paced the room several times before coming to a stop in front of her. Concern made her mother look older and more ashen than usual. Regret clawed at Lavinia’s gut. She never wanted to hurt her. How could she? All she ever wanted was to make her parents proud.

  “I never thought you’d be careless, Lavinia.” The words were almost whispered.

  “I—”

  It was careless, no matter how much she’d wanted it. If someone had seen them, she’d have been ruined and they’d have no choice but to marry. As much as the idea excited her, she did not know the man well enough yet. Yes, a lot of her caution was thanks to her mother but that did not mean she wished to exercise it herself. If she was to marry, it would be for love and nothing else.

  She had to be certain this was love.

  “I came to remind you that the dressmaker will be here shortly to finish your gowns for the season.”

  Lavinia opened her mouth and closed it again. The new wardrobe had cost more than the family could really afford. They would have a few lean months thanks to those new dresses. She practically felt the weight of expectation pressing down on her shoulders, making her muscles stiff and achy.

  “I do not want you to see him alone again, Lavinia,” her mother said stiffly.

  “But, Mama...”

  “You hardly know him. Nor do any of us. Goodness, all I’ve heard is tales of his drinking and flirting. Not to mention that he is the nephew of Mrs. Moore. That does not bode well at all.”

  “I hardly think he has been the one doing the flirting,” muttered Lavinia. After all, almost every woman here, old and young, had been clinging onto his every word since his arrival.

  “He’s a Scot, my dear. They are hardly known for their gentlemanly ways. What would you have done if someone had seen you? Goodness, you’d have been forced to marry him and would have to go live in some draughty castle in the middle of Scotland, like some sort of...barbarian.”

  “He is not a barbarian, Mama. That is wholly unfair. He has only ever acted like a gentleman.”

  “A gentleman does not kiss ladies to whom they are not married,” she said pointedly.

  “Mama—”

  “I do not want you near him again. We are mere weeks away from you going to Town and there will be plenty of handsome, eligible men there to turn your head. We are relying on you to make an excellent match.” Her mother sighed and sank onto the bed opposite her to lean across and clasp Lavinia’s hand. “Do you not see I only want the best for you, my dear? You are so beautiful and wonderful. A mother could not ask for a better child. You were destined for something marvelous, I just know it.”

  Lavinia glanced away, unable to bear looking into her mother’s tear-filled eyes. She was not wonderful—how could she be when she’d given her family no thought when kissing Niall?

  “All I am asking is that you go to Town and see who is there. What could be the harm in that? Perhaps a handsome duke shall catch your eye.”

  Lavinia resisted th
e desire to roll her eyes. Her mother seemed to think there was an eligible duke around every corner, simply waiting for her daughter. The few that existed were mostly old and married. But even if there was one closer to her age and not wed, why should he be interested in a genteel but insignificant woman like herself?

  If only Mama could recognize that.

  “Can I trust you to exercise caution, Lavinia,” her mother pressed more sternly. “Do not let yourself be swept away by romance. Give London a chance.”

  “I—” Lavinia sighed. “I will be cautious, Mama, I promise.”

  The creases around her mother’s eyes relaxed and she released her tight grip on Lavinia’s hands. “Excellent.” She stood and straightened her skirts. “Now I must prepare for the dressmaker’s arrival. Goodness, we have so much to prepare for your season. We must ensure you look utterly perfect!”

  With that, her mother swept from the room. Lavinia eyed her hands, still able to feel the lingering warm touch of her mother’s hands. Her heart weighted down in her chest. She would exercise caution, of course she would. She had been foolish to kiss Niall out in the open like that, but she was not certain she could have resisted even if they were in the middle of a busy ballroom.

  As for giving the season a chance...well, she supposed she could, but that would not change anything. As much as she did not want to disappoint her mother, she could not ignore what was happening between her and Niall. She had the gut-aching feeling that if she did, she would regret it forever.

  She had to find him. Right away. Lavinia stood. She had to know if this was real, if this was worth disappointing her family and friends for.

  Chapter Ten

  Ducking into the inn, the warm yeasty fragrance was quickly masked by the odor of sweaty bodies and stale breath. A far cry from the wee village pub that served ladies their sandwiches and catered to the finest events, this traveler’s inn had likely never served a sandwich in its lifetime and made most of its trade in cheap ale to passers-by and the town drunkards.

  One of whom Niall needed to find.